tastes—and our food not up to your usual standards. My deepest regrets, milady." His countenance was not in the least regretful.
"However," he went on, "methinks you would find fault with
just about anything right now. So tel me, what would please you?"
The question final y brought her head whipping around. 'It would please me to be returned to my home—to Merwen!"
"Impossible, I'm afraid, I do offer a suggestion, though. It might ease your state of mind considerably if you were to think of Langley as your temporary home, milady."
He was cruel to needle her so. "Curse you to hel !" she burst out. "Why did you bring me here?"
"Why, Princess. I think ours an acquaintance we must devote more time to." He bowed low, openly mocking her, his smile leering.
She fixed him with a poisonous stare. "You wil be sorry," she predicted flatly. "Someone wil come for me—"
He laughed outright. One booted foot resting easily on the raised hearth, his pose was casually negligent. "Milady, you forget! They think you dead—fal en victim to my own hand."
"All the more reason for them to seek you out. My people will demand justice for my death— and then they wil discover you hold me against my wil !"
He remained duly unimpressed. "Even if your people rallied to your aid, mere is precious little to fear. I saw only a handful of knights and men-at-arms at Merwen."
Anger brought her surging to her feet. 'Thanks to you," she cried bitterly. "But Barris wil find you and then, milord, you'l see you've met your match!"
"Barris?" A dark brow climbed high.
"My betrothed! And he wil see justice done, I promise you that!"
He shrugged, not in the least swayed by her warning. "Should he choose to come, I wil be
ready." He left her in no doubt he found the prospect highly unlikely.
Shana glared at him, her lips clamped tight. It seemed he had an answer for everything, blast his English hide! Her fury escalated when he merely laughed at her mutinous expression.
"Come, milady. Do not sulk so."
"I do not sulk!" she flared.
"Methinks you do. You are disappointed," he drawled, "that al did not proceed as planned.
Oh, you must have been so very smug when I tumbled into your trap. I admit, I played the fool."
"Aye, milord, a role you play wel !"
He continued as if she spoke nary a word. "You are right, however. 'Us time I decided what we are to do with you." His eyes turned as cutting as his voice. He stroked his jaw, his gaze never releasing her as he pretended to ponder.
"I have it," he proclaimed suddenly. "We could ransom you to your betrothed for a goodly sum." When she said nothing, he went on, "Or we could use you as a hostage. Aye, a hostage! In exchange for your uncle Llywelyn's promise to renew his homage to King Edward. The Welsh people will fol ow his lead and al wil be as it was."
"You underestimate the Welsh, milord. We do not fight for glory or honor or riches. We fight for independence, because we despise English rule—we always have and we always wil .
Nor is it likely my uncle Llywelyn wil come to my aid," she pointed out coldly. "He is seldom on good terms with any of his brothers. Why, he put his elder brother Owain under lock and key. And he drove his brother Dafydd straight into the arms of the English those many months and cal ed himself ruler of all Wales."
"Ah, a typical Welshman! Only Llywelyn did not choose to fight with his neighbors, but his brothers!"
Shana was not so inclined to laughter, as he was. "My father harbored no desire for land or power like Uncle," she said stiffly. " 'Twas for that very reason that he removed himself to Merwen these many years past. He saw his brother only when Llywelyn craved money or arms. I fail to see why I, a mere niece, should fare better than his brothers." Even as the words passed her lips, a chil ing revelation came to her—too late she realized that very fact might well make her life forfeit.
"Why, indeed?" The earl murmured. A shiver ran down her spine when
"However," he went on, "methinks you would find fault with
just about anything right now. So tel me, what would please you?"
The question final y brought her head whipping around. 'It would please me to be returned to my home—to Merwen!"
"Impossible, I'm afraid, I do offer a suggestion, though. It might ease your state of mind considerably if you were to think of Langley as your temporary home, milady."
He was cruel to needle her so. "Curse you to hel !" she burst out. "Why did you bring me here?"
"Why, Princess. I think ours an acquaintance we must devote more time to." He bowed low, openly mocking her, his smile leering.
She fixed him with a poisonous stare. "You wil be sorry," she predicted flatly. "Someone wil come for me—"
He laughed outright. One booted foot resting easily on the raised hearth, his pose was casually negligent. "Milady, you forget! They think you dead—fal en victim to my own hand."
"All the more reason for them to seek you out. My people will demand justice for my death— and then they wil discover you hold me against my wil !"
He remained duly unimpressed. "Even if your people rallied to your aid, mere is precious little to fear. I saw only a handful of knights and men-at-arms at Merwen."
Anger brought her surging to her feet. 'Thanks to you," she cried bitterly. "But Barris wil find you and then, milord, you'l see you've met your match!"
"Barris?" A dark brow climbed high.
"My betrothed! And he wil see justice done, I promise you that!"
He shrugged, not in the least swayed by her warning. "Should he choose to come, I wil be
ready." He left her in no doubt he found the prospect highly unlikely.
Shana glared at him, her lips clamped tight. It seemed he had an answer for everything, blast his English hide! Her fury escalated when he merely laughed at her mutinous expression.
"Come, milady. Do not sulk so."
"I do not sulk!" she flared.
"Methinks you do. You are disappointed," he drawled, "that al did not proceed as planned.
Oh, you must have been so very smug when I tumbled into your trap. I admit, I played the fool."
"Aye, milord, a role you play wel !"
He continued as if she spoke nary a word. "You are right, however. 'Us time I decided what we are to do with you." His eyes turned as cutting as his voice. He stroked his jaw, his gaze never releasing her as he pretended to ponder.
"I have it," he proclaimed suddenly. "We could ransom you to your betrothed for a goodly sum." When she said nothing, he went on, "Or we could use you as a hostage. Aye, a hostage! In exchange for your uncle Llywelyn's promise to renew his homage to King Edward. The Welsh people will fol ow his lead and al wil be as it was."
"You underestimate the Welsh, milord. We do not fight for glory or honor or riches. We fight for independence, because we despise English rule—we always have and we always wil .
Nor is it likely my uncle Llywelyn wil come to my aid," she pointed out coldly. "He is seldom on good terms with any of his brothers. Why, he put his elder brother Owain under lock and key. And he drove his brother Dafydd straight into the arms of the English those many months and cal ed himself ruler of all Wales."
"Ah, a typical Welshman! Only Llywelyn did not choose to fight with his neighbors, but his brothers!"
Shana was not so inclined to laughter, as he was. "My father harbored no desire for land or power like Uncle," she said stiffly. " 'Twas for that very reason that he removed himself to Merwen these many years past. He saw his brother only when Llywelyn craved money or arms. I fail to see why I, a mere niece, should fare better than his brothers." Even as the words passed her lips, a chil ing revelation came to her—too late she realized that very fact might well make her life forfeit.
"Why, indeed?" The earl murmured. A shiver ran down her spine when
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